September 17. Story of the Day: Milking Pails

This is one of the games reported by Alice Bertha Gomme in The Traditional Games of England, Scotland, and Ireland (volume 1).

The game-song is classified as Roud 3515.

Looking for more stories? Click here for previous Stories-of-the-Day.

MILKING PAILS

(Milkmaids by Gari Melchers)

Mary's gone a-milking,
Mother, mother,
Mary's gone a-milking.
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

Take your pails and go after her,
Daughter, daughter,
Take your pails and go after her,
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine.

Buy me a pair of new milking pails,
Mother, mother,
Buy me a pair of new milking pails,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

Where's the money to come from,
Daughter, daughter,
Where's the money to come from,
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Sell my father's feather bed,
Mother, mother,
Sell my father's feather bed,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

What's your father to sleep on,
Daughter, daughter,
What's your father to sleep on.
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Put him in the truckle bed,
Mother, mother,
Put him in the truckle bed.
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

What are the children to sleep on,
Daughter, daughter,
What are the children to sleep on.
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Put them in the pig-sty.
Mother, mother,
Put them in the pig-sty,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

What are the pigs to lie in,
Daughter, daughter,
What are the pigs to he in.
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Put them in the washing-tubs,
Mother, mother,
Put them in the washing-tubs,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

What am I to wash in,
Daughter, daughter,
What am I to wash in,
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Wash in the thimble,
Mother, mother,
Wash in the thimble,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

Thimble won't hold your father's shirt,
Daughter, daughter,
Thimble won't hold your father's shirt,
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine.

Wash in the river,
Mother, mother,
Wash in the river,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

Suppose the clothes should blow away,
Daughter, daughter,
Suppose the clothes should blow away,
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Set a man to watch them,
Mother, mother,
Set a man to watch them,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

Suppose the man should go to sleep,
Daughter, daughter,
Suppose the man should go to sleep,
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Take a boat and go after them,
Mother, mother,
Take a boat and go after them,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.

Suppose the boat should be upset,
Daughter, daughter,
Suppose the boat should be upset,
 Gentle sweet daughter o' mine?

Then that would be an end of you,
Mother, mother,
Then that would be an end of you,
 Gentle sweet mother o' mine.


NOTES

As sung by A. K. Goninie, London nursemaid, 1876.

[Gomme gives numerous versions and variations on these lyrics that you can read online.]

One child stands apart and personates the Mother. The other children form a line, holding hands and facing the Mother. They advance and retire singing the first, third, and alternate verses, while the Mother, in response, sings the second and alternate verses. While the last verse is being sung the children all run off; the Mother runs after them, catches them, and beats them. Either the first or last caught becomes Mother in next game.

In the Shropshire game the Mother should carry a stick.

In the Norfolk version the Mother sits on a form or bank, the other children advancing and retiring as they sing. After the last verse is sung the children try to seat themselves on the form or bank where the Mother has been sitting. If they can thus get home without the Mother catching them they are safe.

The Kentish game is played with two lines of children advancing and retiring. This was also the way in which the London version (A. B. Gomme) was played.

In the version sent by Mr. H. S. May a ring is formed by the children joining hands. One child stands in the centre — she represents the Mother. The ring of children say the first, third, and every alternate verse. The child in the centre says the second, fourth, and alternate verses, and the game is played as above, except that when the Mother has said the last verse the children call out, "Good job, too," and run off, the Mother chasing them as above. The game does not appear to be sung.

This game is somewhat of a cumulative story, having for its finish the making angry and tormenting of a mother. All the versions point to this.

One interesting point, that of milk-pails, is, it will be seen, gradually losing ground in the rhymes. Milk-pails were pails of wood suspended from a yoke worn on the milkmaid's shoulders, and these have been giving place to present-day milk-cans. Consequently we find in the rhymes only four versions in which milk-pails are used. In two versions even the sense of milking-can has been lost, and the South Shields version, sent me by little Miss Blair, has degenerated into "male-scales," a thoroughly meaningless phrase. The Cowes version (Miss Smith) has arrived at "wash-pan."

The "burden" of the Chirbury version is "a rea, a ria, a roses," and the Sheffield is also remarkable : the "I, O, OM " refers, probably, to something now forgotten, or it may be the "Hi, Ho, Ham!" familiar in many nursery rhymes.

The game seems to point to a period some time back, when milking was an important phase of the daily life, or perhaps to the time when it was customary for the maids and women of a village to go to the hilly districts with the cows (summer shealings) for a certain period of time.

The references to domestic life are interesting. The scarcity of beds, the best or feather bed, and the children's bed, seeming to be all those available. The feather bed is still a valued piece of household furniture, and is considered somewhat of the nature of a heirloom, feather beds often descending from mother to daughter for some generations. I have been told instances of this.

Gregor, in Folk-lore of East of Scotland, p. 52, describes the Scottish box-bed. The "truckle bed " and "footman's bed " probably refers to the small bed under a large one, which was only pulled out at night for use, and pushed under during the day. Illustrations of these beds and the children's bed are given in old tales.

The proximity of the pig-sty to the house is manifest.

The mention of washing-tubs calls to mind the large wooden tubs formerly always used for the family wash, Before the era of laundresses washing-tubs must have constituted an important part of the family plenishing. Washing in the rivers and streams was also a thing of frequent occurrence, hot water for the purpose of cleansing clothes not being considered necessary, or in many cases desirable.

Chambers gives a version of the game (Popular Rhymes, p. 36) and also Newell (Games, p. 166). Another version from Buckingham is given by Thomas Baker in the Midland Garner, 1st series, ii. 32, in which the mother desires the daughter to "milk in the washing-tub," and the words also appear very curiously tacked on to the "Three Dukes a-riding  game from Berkshire (Antiquary, xxvii. 195), where they are very much out of place.

August 22. Story of the Day: The Witch

This item comes from Gomme's Traditional Games; see the many variations in the notes.

I have classified this as a days of the week type of story -- ATU 2012 Days of the Week --but there are other formulas involved too! The plot of the "story" might also remind you of the goat and her kids, which is classified as ATU 124.

Looking for more stories? Click here for previous Stories-of-the-Day.

THE WITCH

(vintage Halloween witch)

This game is played by nine children. One is chosen as Mother, seven are chosen for her children, and the other is a Witch. The Mother and Witch stand opposite the seven children. The Mother advances and names the children by the
days of the week, saying—
Sunday, take care of Monday,
Monday, take care of Tuesday,
Tuesday, take care of Wednesday,
Wednesday, take care of Thursday,
Thursday, take care of Friday,
Friday, take care of Saturday.
Take care the Old Witch does not catch you, 
and I'll bring you something nice.

The Mother then goes away, and the Witch advances, saying—
Sunday, your mother sent me for your best bonnet; she wants to get one like it for Monday. It is up in the top long drawer, fetch it quick.

Sunday goes away, and the Witch then seizes Saturday and runs off with her.

The Mother re-enters, and names the children again, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, misses Saturday, and says—
Where's Saturday?

The children all cry and say—
The Old Witch has got her.

This part is then repeated until the Witch has taken all the children and put them in a corner one by one, and stands in front to guard them. The Mother sets out to find the children, she sees the Old Witch, and says to her—
Have you seen my children?
Witch. Yes, I saw them walking down High Street.

Mother then goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking—
Have you seen my children?
W. Yes, I saw them going to school.

Mother then goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking—
Have you seen my children?
W. Yes, they are gone to church.

Mother again goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking—
Have you seen my children?
W. They are having dinner—you can't see them.

Mother again goes away, does not find them, and comes back asking—
Have you seen my children?
W. They are in bed.

M. Can't I go up and see them?
W. Your shoes are too dirty.

M. Can't I take them off?
W. Your stockings are too dirty.

M. Can't I take them off?
W. Your feet are too dirty.

M. Can't I cut them off?
W. The blood would run on the floor.

M. Can't I wrap them up in a blanket?
W. The fleas would hop out.

M. Can't I wrap them up in a sheet?
W. The sheet is too white.

M. Can't I ride up in a carriage?
W. You would break the stairs down.

The children then burst out from behind the Witch, and they and the Mother run after her, crying out,
Burn the Old Witch.

They continue chasing the Witch till she is caught, and the child who succeeds in catching her takes the part of the Witch in the next game.

—Dartmouth (Miss Kimber).

NOTES

The children choose from their party an Old Witch (who is supposed to hide herself) and a Mother. The other players are the daughters, and are called by the names of the week. The Mother says that she is going to market, and will bring home for each the thing that she most wishes for. Upon this they all name something. Then, after telling them upon no account to allow any one to come into the house, she gives her children in charge of her eldest daughter, Sunday, and goes away. In a moment, the Witch makes her appearance, and asks to borrow some trifle. Sunday at first refuses, but, after a short parley, goes into the next room to fetch the required article. In her absence the Witch steals the youngest of the children (Saturday), and runs off with her. Sunday, on her return, seeing that the Witch has left, thinks there must be something wrong, and counts the children, saying, Monday, Tuesday, &c., until she comes to Saturday, who is missing. She then pretends to cry, wrings her hands, and sobs out—Mother will beat me when she comes home.
On the Mother's return, she, too, counts the children, and finding Saturday gone, asks Sunday where she is. Sunday answers, Oh, mother! an Old Witch called, and asked to borrow , and, whilst I was fetching it, she ran off with Saturday. The Mother scolds and beats her, tells her to be more careful in the future, and again sets off for the market. This is repeated until all the children but Sunday have been stolen. Then the Mother and Sunday, hand in hand, go off to search for them. They meet the Old Witch, who has them all crouching down in a line behind her.
Mother. Have you seen my children?
Old Witch. Yes! I think by Eastgate.
The Mother and Sunday retire, as if to go there, but, not finding them, again return to the Witch, who this time sends them to Westgate, then to Southgate and Northgate. At last one of the children pops her head up over the Witch's shoulder, and cries out, "Here we are, Mother." Then follows this dialogue:—
M. I see my children, may I go in?
O. W. No! your boots are too dirty.
M. I will take them off.
O. W. Your stockings are too dirty.
M. I will take them off.
O. W. Your feet are too dirty.
M. I will cut them off.
O. W. Then the blood will stream over the floor.
The Mother at this loses patience, and pushes her way in, the Witch trying in vain to keep her out. She, with all her children, then chase the Witch until they catch her; when they pretend to bind her hand and foot, put her on a pile, and burn her, the children fanning the imaginary flames with their pinafores. Sometimes the dialogue after "Here we are, mother," is omitted, and the Witch is at once chased.—Cornwall [Folklore Journal, v. 53—54).

One child represents an old woman who is blind, and has eight children. She says she is going to market, and bids her eldest daughter let no one into the house in her absence. The eldest daughter promises. Then a second old woman knocks, and bribes the daughter, by the promise of a gay ribbon, to give her a light. Whilst the daughter is getting the light, the Witch steals a child and carries it off.
The daughter comes back, and makes all the other children promise not to tell their Mother. The Mother returns and says: "Are all the children safe?" The daughter says, "Yes." "Then let me count them." The children stand in a row, and the Mother counts by placing her hands alternately on their heads. The eldest daughter runs round to the bottom of the row, and so is counted twice.
This is repeated until all the children are gone. At the end the eldest daughter runs away, and the Mother finds all her children gone. Then the Witch asks the old woman to dinner, and the children, who have covered their faces, are served up as beef, mutton, lamb, &c. Finally they throw off their coverings and a general scrimmage takes place.—London (Miss Dendy).

At Deptford the game is played in the same way, and the dialogue is similar to the Cornish version, then follows—
I'll ride in a pan.
That will do.
The Mother gets inside to her children and says to them in turn, "Poke out your tongue, you're one of mine," then they run away home.—Deptford (Miss Chase).

In another Deptford version the children are named for days of the week, the Mother goes out, and the Witch calls and asks—Please you, give me a match. The minder goes upstairs, and the Witch carries a child off. The Mother comes home, misses child, and asks— Where's Monday? She's gone to her grandma. Mother pretends to look for her, and says— She ain't there. She's gone to her aunt's. Children own at last—The bonny Old Witch has took her! The Mother beats the Daughter who has been so careless, goes to Witch, and says— Have you any blocks of wood? Can I come in and see? No, your boots are too dirty, &c. [Same as previous versions.]

A number of girls stand in a line. Three girls out of the number represent Mother, Jack, and Daughter. The Mother leaves her children in charge of her Daughter, counts them, and says the following:—
I am going into the garden to gather some rue,
And mind old Jack-daw don't get you,
Especially you my daughter Sue,
I'll beat you till you're black and blue.
While the Mother is gone Jack comes and asks for a match; he takes a child and hides her up. The Mother comes back, counts her children, and finds one missing. Then she asks where she is, and the Daughter says that Jack has got her. The Mother beats the Daughter, and leaves them again, saying the same words as before, until all the children have gone.—Ipswich {Suffolk Folk-lore, p. 62).

I'll charge my children every one
To keep good house till I come home,
Especially you my daughter Sue,
Or else I'll beat you black and blue.
—Hersham, Surrey {Folk-lore Record, v. 88).

Halliwell gives a version of this which he calls the game of the "Gipsy." He gives no dialogue, but his game begins by the Mother saying some lines to the eldest daughter, which are almost identical with those given from Hersham, Surrey.

Mr. Newell gives some interesting American versions. This game appears in the versions given above to be a child-stealing game, and it may originate from this being a common practice some years ago, but it will be found on comparison to be so much like "Mother, mother, the pot boils over" (vol. i. p. 396) that it is more probable that this is the same game, having lost the important element of the "giving of fire," or a "light from the fire" out of the house, so soon as the idea that doing this put the inhabitants of the house into the power of the receiver or some evil spirit had become lost as a popular belief. "Matches" being asked for and a "light" confirms this. It will be seen that a Witch or evilly-disposed person is dreaded by the Mother, the eldest Daughter being specially charged to keep a good look-out. The naming of the children after the days of the week, the counting of them by the Mother, and the artifice of the eldest Daughter, in the London version, who gets counted twice, are archaic points. The discovery by tasting of the children by their Mother, and their suggested revival; the catching and "burning" of the Witch in the Dartmouth and Cornish games, are incidents familiar to us from nursery tales and from the trials of people condemned for witchcraft. Of the Cornish version it is said that "it has descended from generation to generation." Mr. Newell's versions tend, I think, to strengthen my suggestion in "Mother, the pot boils over," that the "fire" custom alluded to is the origin of that game and this. The fire incident has been forgotten, and the game therefore developed into a child-stealing or gipsy game.